


King's Curse

by Agent C (arh581958)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Alternative Universe - Royalty, Crossdressing, Fluff, Forced Crossdressing, GoodDad!Howard, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oblivious!Steve, Rom-com, Romance, Secret Identity, pining!tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-05-11 18:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5637766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Agent%20C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to a foretold future, Tony is forced to be raised as the Crowned Princess. It's all well and good for their prosperous Kingdom. It's not until his sixteenth birthday that the secret becomes a problem. In comes Prince Steven, of their neighboring lands, tasked to secure Tony's hand in marriage!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings** :  
> -Tony is 15, going on 16.  
> -Steve is 22.  
> -It's pretty much the 1400's so people marry really young.  
> -Male dressing as a female (in later chapters)  
> -unbeta-ed
> 
>  
> 
> **So yes, it might be an old trope or something done before, but hey, I felt like doing it.**

When King Howard was a boy, a powerful enchantress fell in-love with him. She was a powerful sorceress with the ability to bring prosperity or downfall to the kingdom. He was blessed with her affections and, thus, his successful reign was assured. But he declined her fondness, pleading the future of his country, and she mournfully agreed. However, with her acceptance came a warning.

"In the future," she told him, "Your union will bear a son and he shall resemble you, Howard. When that time comes, I will most certainly take him in your place. I will grant your wish for a a bountiful period for this land."

A year later, his son was born. He raised him as his daughter.

King Howard's rule is blessed with countless graces from the gods. The time of war is over, the lands have plentiful harvests every season, and the people lives in health.  Every peace talk with neighbouring kingdoms brings stronger alliances. Trades routes both on land and in the sea paves the way for commerce to flourish. His wife, Maria, is as beautiful as the day they married.

Most of all, there is Tony, who lives two lives as King's armourer and the crowned princess. Many of the Kingdom's gifts are thanks to him. It is because him that their weaponry and armour has become stuff of legends. Dignitaries are easily charmed by his cunning wit and sensible humour. Tony is their pride, joy, and crowning glory.

Everything is perfect, until the year that their eldest princess is to sixteen.

The news comes from the King Howard's dearest and longest friend and ally, King Joseph Rogers, ruler of the north which shares their borders.

"Howard, my dearest friend, my blood brother," Joseph says while the two kings share a late night drink during one of King Howard's diplomatic tours. Dinner has passed. Together, they retreat to the study of King Joseph's private chambers. "I wish to strengthen the alliance of our two kingdoms. I wish for my son, Steven, to marry your daughter."

Howard, slightly light-headed from the mead, sputters his mouth's contents on his friend. "I beg your pardon, Joseph. I believe I misheard you. Pray, shall you repeat it for me? The mead has caused me disillusions!"

Joseph laughs in good nature while wiping his soiled robes. "Tis no mistake, my friend. I am asking your eldest daughter's hand in marriage for my eldest son. Since it is a pity that you have not a male heir of your own, I am offering you a solution."

"No!" Howard vehemently yells. "No, no, you cannot have Princess Nia for a daughter-in-law. I refuse! I disapprove of the union."

Joseph frowns deeply. "Does relations with our country not suffice for a marriage of alliance?" The humour melts away from his face as he stares at his friend. "Have we done something to displease you? Or do you simply find it abhorrent to mix our bloodlines?" He speaks carefully but the displeasure bleeds into his tone.

Howard fidgets uneasily on his chair. "No, no," he says in an attempt to disperse the tension. "To--Antonia, erh, Nia is a bit difficult, you see. She is too brash and outspoken! Surely, I can find you a better match. How about Princess Virginia, my second daughter? She's a well-mannered girl. Much better than her older sister."

"But the second princess is but twelve years old! Our prince is at a ripe age of twenty-one! She will be but a babe compared to him." Joseph voices out a legitimate concern. "He will never agree to marry a Princess who is still well into her girlhood. Princess Nia, on the other hand, she is too turn sixteen before winter. Six years is not too wide a gap for a royal union. Won't you agree? What qualms do you have for this proposal?"

Howard, feeling defeated, bows his head and shakes it. "You're right," he says, raising his goblet towards Joseph. "It is a brilliant idea to finally make our countries bound by a blessed union. I can think of no woes which will hinder such a match save for one."

The other King appears displeased. "Pray tell, King Howard," the mere use of the title is a display of his unhappiness. "What woes are plaguing you?"

"I, myself, have no reservations. 'Tis my daughter, you see." Howard not-quite lies. "Having no sons of my own, I have raised them both to be strong independent ladies with minds of their own. It is a quality which I encourage in their upbringing. Prince Steven is a wonderful lad but I wish to give my daughter a choice for her own happiness as I have my Maria and you have in Sarah."

The discontentment first contorts then melts away from Joseph's face.

"A truly wise King you have become, Howard." He says in approval. "Very well. I shall look forward to an invitation to your Kingdom in the near future."

"I shall send my fastest riders when I arrive home." Howard agrees.

They toast in the night, goblets clinking.

***

The news of the impending marriage talks, or marriage _interview_ as the King's emphasizes, bodes well with King Howard's court, save for one. Tony, the intended recipient of such favour, reacts as well as expected---which is, to say, in a boisterously loud and dramatic refusal. Thankfully, the private meal, needs him not to be in his princess' dress. He informally requests his presence to be excused, which the King grants without a fuss, and flees.

"Howard," Queen Maria chastises, her expression furrows into worry. "We've already placed him in such a difficult circumstance by having him hide his true gender to the court and to our allies. Marriage is completely out of the question if we wish to keep our son from being taken away by your... previous conquest. You must have thought of this, have you not?"

"I have." Howard nods his head quietly. "But Joseph is adamant of, at the very least, a chance to build a stronger alliance between our Kingdoms. I fear that he is very persuasive about the matter. He truly wishes for Steven to marry Tony which I why I pressed for this _interview_ instead of an arranged marriage. It gives Tony a chance to refuse Joseph's eldest son."

"Oh, Howard," Maria woes, "but what if our dear Tony does not want to refuse? Will you then tell him to let his beloved go in order to keep his secret?"

***

Tony returns to the comfort of his workshop. It is located the heart of the tallest tower to keep his inventions from unintended hands. He loves working here where he can see the vast land of their Kingdom, observe the happenings in the citadel below, and simply watch as life goes on. Sometimes, he loses himself for days on end when he is in the middle of a great discovery. Today, however, he seeks solstice from the horrific news brought by his father.

 _Married_ , he repeats in his head, he is to be married to another man. He has not even lain with a woman. It is a preposterous idea! It will never work. He lacks the parts to make it a truly pleasurable experience for both of them. Then, is a loveless marriage really his fate? Could there be any doubt that his future husband will take a consort to... fulfill his manly urges? And what of him?

"This is ridiculous!" He cries out, hurling the nearest projectile to the door. His aim is lacking and it hits the nearby wall. He cards his hands through his long, messy, untamed raven tresses and laughs out bitterly. "Don't be such a fool, Tony! Your assumptions are false and misleading. No man will agree to marry another man. He shan't be married for he will refuse you or your disgraceful state of living."

He frowns deeply and staggers back against a wall. "That's right," he says in distaste, "no one will ever love you. You're a freak--a boy raised as a  daughter. A fool, a pretender, a falsehood. It matters not how pretty the dresses that you wear, you cannot change what you were born as."

Tony does what he does best; he works and forgets. He busies himself with his inventions. He goes to his most recent project and buries himself in metal and grease. The night might be cold but the forge fire is hot. He sweats his away his worries and loses the time.

It's better to stick with what he knows. It's easier.

***

"Tony?" his sister's voice calls from beyond the door.

Tony does not know how long he's been up here. He blinks from where he's soldering two piece of metal for the new armour. He's spent all carping the metal pieces until he was satisfied and pounding it into thin malleable sheets which he can hand-form. This particular model isn't for their soldier; it's for him, if the day ever comes that he may need it.

"Tony?" Pepper calls again, louder, with a firm rapt on the wooden door. "I know you're inside! I can see the smoke from the fire place, you dummy, quit pretending you're not there and open the door!" There's a long pause before she speaks again. "Or at least just let me in to know that you're fine. It's nearly been a day, Tony, and you haven't been down for food once! I'm..." her voice hitches, "I worry about you."

It breaks Tony's heart to hear his sister's distress. He puts away his secret armour and pulls out a set of swords which needs improving.

"Pepper," he greets, as brightly as he can but it's weak at best, "good morning. You looks lovely as ever. Did you ask your maid to do something with your hair? It's all braidy and twisty and... oh! You have flowers in your hair! Beautiful white flowers that go so well with your skin!" Since he's stopped working, the fatigue of an entire day's work finally catches up to him.

"Tony!" She gasps when she sees him. He's pale, food-deprived, and dehydrated. There are darker bags under his eyes and his hair looks like it's literal raven's nest. Her hands cover her mouth as she stifles her sobs. "Oh, dear brother, you look horrible! It's like you're walking on your last legs and about to fall right where you stand! Jarvis! I shall get Jarvis to assist you to your rooms!"

Tony grabs her wrist before she gets too far and they tumble to the ground. "No," he protests. "Stay. You stay right here." He claws his up and settles his head on her lap. The stone under his back is cold from the night's frost but she is warm and fragrant. The tiredness feels bone deep now and even opening his eyes seems like such a chore.

"Oh, Tony" Pepper says again, soft and affectionate. He runs her fingers through his hair. She was wise for a girl her age. "Father and mother have spoken about Prince Steven. They said, and you could have known all this by know and saved yourself from the pain if you only had the patience to listen instead of storming off like you did!"

Tony chuckles at her. Like him, her thought often stray away from her mouth. He knows the feeling of his brain going far too fast for the words to come out properly from his mouth. They were truly siblings, after all. "Pep, too fast. I have the faintest inclination to fall asleep while you speak."

For that, she hits him playfully on the shoulder to jostle him awake. "As I was saying," she repeats, "your marriage isn't final. Father has found a way to stop it. All you have to do is to refuse Prince Steven when he asks for your hand in marriage! Isn't it wonderful, Tony? You don't have to marry him after all! You can still be as free as you are now!"

"Surely, you jest," he replies with a sad smile.

"Tony," she curves her hand over his cheek. "I do not jest about matters of the heart. You will do it, won't you? Refuse Prince Steven at the ball and all your worries will be forgotten."

"Yeah," Tony says weakly. There's a burgeoning tightening in his chest. So far, he cannot tell whether he's more relieved or saddened by her news. It was, after all, what he wished for, right? A carefree life where he can continue to invent and create to his heart's content.

For the first time in his life, Tony question what his heart truly yearns for.

***

A month passes and the day of the visiting Prince's arrival comes.

***

Tony sits atop a large apple tree near the edge of the outlying town. It's peaceful up here, where no one can see nor bother him. He's always had the attraction to high places. There's just something about being in a elevated place where he can see everything but, at the same time, it all feels so much smaller. Perhaps it's a metaphor for his life---how he can always observe from up here, in the distance, but never really be part of it. How could he? He's been playing a role, keeping his secret, from birth. No one truly knows him.

"He's arriving today." Tony muses to himself morosely. "I wonder how he truly is."

He's heard stories about the valiant prince, his handsome features, and  his most agreeable countenance. Only good things reach his ears from the castle gossip. He is quiet in court, speaks only in choice occasions, but when he does, everyone in the room is captured not only by his wit but his charm as well. He is an opinionated young man, progressive and fair.  

It seems, if he truly were female, Prince Steven would have been the most ideal husband for him.

If only, but he is not.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, old man!" He yells in frustration. He stomps his feet, hard, on the branch where he perches. It's not too sturdy. it moves with his ministrations and shakes. A few ripe, red, apples fall to the ground. "Stupid, stupid, stupid! I can't believe that his stupid playboy antics got _me_ into trouble in the first place." he says in a low voice, "aaarghhh!" He hits the branch again. "That stupid old---woah!"  

Tony hears the branch give and has not a second to react. He falls. "Sweet Jesuuuuus!" He shouts in a mixture of surprise and fear. He manages to grab hold of another branch and clings by the skin of his nails. But it, too, starts to break under his weight. "No, no, no, no..."

"Hey," a voice from below calls him, "need some help?"

He looks down and _blushes_. The man, tall, blonde, with the most brilliant pair of blue eyes, is gorgeous. While he, the supposedly crowned princess, is dangly like a limp orchid on a pathetic branch. It ranks one of his top five most embarrassing experiences ever! The gorgeous man seems to get impatient and calls out again. Thank small fortunes that he's still in his breeches!

"Hey, I said," says the mystery man, "did you hear me? Do you need some help?"

"N---no," Tony replies, cursing at stutter, "I---I'm good. Just, you know, hanging here."

The guy apparently finds him funny and chuckles. "I can see that," he agrees with a nod, light-hearted humour in his tone, "how's the view from up there?"

"Oh," Tony manages to speak, "it's quite handsome. You should try it sometime, hanging I mean, it's a... pretty unique experience."

"Oh?" the man playfully counters, "do not all people in this country enjoy activities such as this? I thought it as a custom!"

This time, Tony laughs and his grips falters. "Ahhh!" He instinctively curls himself into a ball, bracing his hands behind his neck and tucking his knees to his chest. He'll be bruised but he will live. He waits for the ground to knock out his air but it never comes. Something else knocks the wind from him. Or, rather, he knocks the wind out of _someone_ else.

"I'm sorry!" he cries, scampering off his saviour. "I didn't mean to fall on you! Christ, are you okay?"

"Steve" the man breathes out with a wince. "I'm pretty sure that you ain't suppose to put the Lord's in vain. My name is Steve, not Christ. Though, it would be an honour to be named after our saviour."

Tony blames the fall or the man's pearly white smile, or possibly the lethal combination of both, but it takes him and embarrassingly long time to comprehend the man's jest and playful tone. "I guess that makes you _my_ saviour, right? You broke my fall! It must have hurt! I'm so sorry."

Steve chuckles as he sits. "I meant to catch you but you're heavier than you appear."

Tony scrunches up his face. "Did you," he sputters, "did you just call me _fat_?"

Those damn baby-blues grow wide in surprise. Then, it was like Tony died and went to heaven because Steve _blushed_ and it was the most endearing thing that Tony's ever seen. It is strange to see a fit young man blush like a maiden like that! It makes Tony feel things in his loins.

"Yeah," Steve says, with the red crawling down his neck. He seems to gather himself back. "I apologize. You must find me so rude to insult you without even knowing your name!"

"Tony," Tony immediately remedies the situation without thinking. His hand is already out and offered when he sees the ring on his finger. Oh no. But it's too late to pull back because Steve's eyes narrow-in on the insignia embossed in gold.

"This insignia," Steve says, lightly brushing his finger under Tony's, "Are you a member of the Stark Family? This is their family crest, is it not?"

"Y--yes," Tony startles at the jolt he feels on his fingertips and his reply is weak. _The iron forge_ , he thinks to himself. He realizes too late that he's revealed too much. It hits him like a dozen apples in the head.

"But," Steve says, looking at him with large curious blue eyes, "King Howard isn't supposed to have any sons. I've heard that he only has two beautiful daughters with Queen Maria."

Tony freezes. He can hear his heart hammering inside his chest. "I..." he stalls and thinks, _I'm so sorry mother and father_ , "I'm a secret love child with one of the maids. But you mustn't tell anyone about me! They do not know! My mother left the castle's employ when she found out that she was pregnant."

For a moment, Tony is so scared that Steve wouldn't believe him.

"You look so much like the King!" he bursts out, awe evident in his tone.

Tony lets out a sigh in relief. "I look exactly like Princess Nia too! She takes after the King in her looks."

"And brains too, I believe, but her heart is carved from the Queen," Steve adds with a smile. Like a perfect princely gentleman, he offers Tony his hand. "Perhaps you've heard about me? I am Prince Steven, eldest son of King Joseph, we share your kingdom's borders in the north. It's nice to meet you, Tony. It's unexpected yet no less pleasing, I assure you."

Score one for Tony; the prince believes him!

Tony swallows and nods. "Of course, it's all that the servants have been talking about for weeks. You've come to meet the elder Princes, have you not? They've been preparing for your arrival."

"Oh," Steve says, shoulders drooping slightly.

"Steve?" Tony prods with a frown, "What's wrong? Is something the matter? Are you ill from my nearly breaking you?"

Steve chuckles uneasily and offers Tony a smile. "No, no," he reassures, "I'm rather pleased that you weren't hurt by the fall. It would have left you with quite a bruise. I..." he stops to take a deep breath, "I must confess that I am not overly fond of large-scale social settings. To be completely frank, I find that I am terrible at them. Such a pity for a Prince, right?"

"Really?" Tony scoffs in disbelief. "Those have not been the rumours that I've heard."

Steve smiles again and, dear lord, did Tony's heart give another mighty flutter. "Pray tell, what has been said about me? Good things?"

"Yes, really, much too good things! It's as if you were some deity on a pedestal!" Tony throws back his head and laughed. "Some are near lunatic! They say that you once dressed in full armour and went gallivanting in the lower towns like some white knight for the people!"

Steve actually blushed darker at the statement.

"Oh my!" Tony exclaimed. "So, the rumours are true? Fear not, your highness, I assure you that Princess Nia will find it as a most amicable trait. A ruler can be no ruler if one does not genuinely love his people. She would have found your cause a worthy one."

"Will she?" Steve beamed and he looks so handsome like this---hair dotted with green, grass stains on his breeches, and a smile that would rival beeswax candle light.

 _This_ , Tony thinks, _is not so bad._

They are interrupted by an envoy calling out to the Prince. "Prince Steven," the envoy calls out, "It is nearly time to present yourself in the castle! We must make haste!"

Steve waves the man off then turns to Tony. "Say, I'm going to be in this country for a while. I know that this isn't for me to say... But, will you... would you like to accompany me when I am out of the castle? It's nice talking to someone without the chaperones all around. You're wonderful company, Tony. It's a shame that I won't be meeting you during the royal functions."

Tony cannot help but smile brightly at the offer. Steve, Prince Steven, who has barely known him for an hour is asking to spend more time with _him_ \---with Tony and not Princess Nia. It's the first time ever that anyone has openly wanted _his_ attention. The butterflies in his stomach start again.

"Tony?" Steve breaks his reverie, "Tomorrow? Do you want to meet with me? ... Or is it too presumptuous of me to even ask?"

"I do," Tony blurts out like an idiot, "I mean, yes, sure, okay. I'm grateful that you want to spend some time together. I'd love to entertain you while you're visiting."

"Great!" Steve smiles and makes Tony's squishy feelings come to light again. "I'll see you tomorrow!" He turns around and runs up the hills, waving as he goes.

Tony stands underneath the apple tree's shade with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

He's conflicted. More so, now, than he when he began. He woke up determined to play-out the visit with an aloofness that he always had with diplomatic tours. But then, he met _Steve_ and, suddenly, now he's unsure of what himself.

_Oh dear lord, what is he to do?_


	2. Chapter 2

Day has already broken by the time Tony returns. It's midday when he reaches the castle ground. He goes straight to the kitchens. Servants instinctively part from his way. He smiles cheekily at them. He knows he must look ridiculous with his arms filled with fallen apples. He chose the best ones---plump, ripe, and red---to bring home as his bounty.

"Y--your royal highness," a servant girl curtsies, dipping low, with her head bowed. It surprises him that she knows his proper address. To most, Tony is simply the King's young armourer.

He recognizes her as one of the girls working in the kitchens and grins. "Margaret, right?"

"Yes, sire," she answers with a blushes at his state of dress. His tunic is used as a make-shift vessel and exposes a few inches of his inner dress. It stretches with the apple's weight but the sturdy material holds.  "Would you like some help, sir?" she asks, "with the apples. I can help you carry them to the kitchens, if you wish."

"Thank you," Tony replies. She pulls at her small waist apron and does something similar to Tony's tunic. "Brilliant girl," he praises as hands her half of the apples in his pile. "With this, we shall get to the kitchen in no time!" She merely giggles back.

They weave through the corridors and arrive shortly in the kitchen. Staff are busying about cleaning, cutting, and blanching vegetables for the evening meal. He eyes a large cut of beef, boar, and freshly caught fish in various states of preparation. The chaos is so rampant that barely anyone notices their arrival.

"Oh, apples!" another girl suddenly exclaims, eyeing the fresh red fruit. He knows her as Darcy. "Maggie, did you pick these from the garden? They're perfect! Jane can make a perfectly good apple pie for poor Prince Steven. Perhaps a warm apple piece of pie can bring him some cheer."

"Why?" Tony asks despite himself. He bites his tongue in repentance. "What happened to the Prince Steven? Is he not well?" He needs to know because they just met and the Prince appeared to be in perfect health during their encounter. Not much time has passed and he wonders what could have caused the Prince's uncharacteristic distress.

"Tony!" Darcy nearly shouts in surprise. "I didn't see you there behind Maggie! What are you doing here?"

Tony shrugs. "I'm helping Margaret carry these apples to the kitchen, of course." He says indignantly. "Come on then," he urges, "what of our visiting prince's countenance during the midday meal?”

If Darcy has doubts to the truth of his words, she keeps silent, but she does eye him with blooming suspicion. "The pure lad was quite gloomy at Princess Nia's ill-timed poor health. Would you know something of our fair Princess' lack  of good manners? She is, after all, the reason why the big bond handsome man has travelled all this way!"

Tony coughs as her prudishness. "Yes, well," he says, "I imagine that it cannot be so easy to accept a wedding match with a complete stranger."

Darcy rolls her eyes. "Oh, trust me, Tony. If you met him, you'd fall for him so easily! He's a complete dream! Just like the Prince in our childhood fairytales." She makes a swooning sound and gesture, with her hands clasped over her breast. Tony blushes because Steve _is_ just like charming prince in their storybooks.

***

"Tony, my dear lad," Queen Maria says, coming their way from the dry-pantry, "Pray, do tell, what brings you to the kitchen?" She asks him without being too condescending. She makes it sound as if his conduct during midday did not greatly worry her. Concern, if one was truly listening, is also evident in her tone.

"Your Majesty," Tony greets, "I felt the need to get out of the tower. I took a walk near the city's edge and found these apples. I think the fresh air does wonders to the my uneasiness." He answers neutrally without conveying too much to the eavesdropping listeners. "Blessed I may be with the King's graces, my lady. I merely sought longed to escape it once in a while. Have I displeased you?"

Maria retains her gracefulness even as she sighs. "Very well, you are no prisoner of the castle, Tony. You know that you are free to walkabout as you wish." A hint of sadness laces her tone. She sends him a wary look. "This meeting must be fated. I am informed that the King will soon call upon you. Shall you accompany me to him?"

"Yes, my lady," he bows, "I shall hand these over to Darcy." He turns and does just that. "Please send these to Jane. It would be a great honour if these were to make their way on Prince Steven's plate." he whispers to her. When he faces his mother again, there's a soft curious expression on her face. He ducks his head in response. "Shall we go, my lady?"

The queen nods and they both leave the kitchens. Once they were a safe distance away, Maria speaks again. "It was a thought gesture of you," she says with a small smile on her lips. He merely looks at her in puzzlement. "The apples," she clarifies, "for Prince Steven. I'm curious, though, since he mentioned in passing some praise for our Kingdom's harvest---apples in particular. Such good coincidence that you bring some to the castle."

Tony bites his lips and blushes. "I..." he starts, "I may have accidentally met him near the village."

Maria raises her eyebrows. "How can you _accidentally_ meet Prince Steven?" She asks, sounding amused. If she weren't his mother, Tony might accuse her of enjoying his discomfort. He worries over his bottom lip a bit more which Maria chastises by flicking her finger over his lip. "How did he not recognize you?"

"Heh," Tony lets out uneasily, "I may have said that I was a secret love child..."

The queen giggles at the absurdity of the thought. "You always did possess such a vivid imagination. Your father might have fancied a lot of women in our youth but he's never taken another lover after our marriage. Foolish, foolish lad! Can you see now that your dallying in town can be so troublesome? It's a wonder that Prince Steven believes you!"

At this, Tony finally relaxes. He releases the tension in his shoulders and slouches as they walk. Times like these, he is grateful of his mother's youthful character.

"Well, he may not have been in his full mental capacities at the time. I may have," he says, wringing his hands together, "I may have accidentally fallen on him..." He feels embarrassment up to his ears. Fortunately, his long hair partially hid the flush down his neck.

"It was a misfortune, mama! I went out looking for some fresh air. You know me," he babbles, "I’m used to seeing things from high-up. So I climbed a tree and kicked it---and fell. He wanted to catch me, the fool, and we ended up on our hides! I had no intention of missing the midday meal except that I was... he asked... I thought..."

"Oh, my poor child," Maria coos, cupping Tony's face and running her thumbs over his cheeks. "I would know that expression anywhere." She tells him unhappily. Her lips are down-turned as she gives him a sad look. "I fear that I must warn you, dear Anthony, that the King's request will undoubtedly bring you pain. For this, I am so sorry, my love."

Tony takes her hand and kisses. "Alas," he murmurs, "a princess must do a princess' duty. I was raised to live as a fine ruler one day."

"Come, Tony, let's see to your father. "

***

Howard is alone when Maria and Tony arrive in his study. Sunlight enters the room through the enormous open windows and a breeze brings forth the smell of fresh earth. The King is hunched over a large parchment while the rest of his table is littered with other documents. It reminds Tony of his own workshop in the tower. On nearby table are a plate of cheese and two goblets of wine.

"We must have just missed the Prince," Maria says in lieu of a greeting. It is only then that Howards is pulled from his concentration. He lifts his head and smiles at her. "Hello, my love," She greets with her own radiant smile, "Tell me, am I correct to assume that you were in audience with Prince Steven?"

"Sharp as ever, my queen," Howard replies with a nod. "I was indeed. But I wonder if it is pity or fortune that you've just missed him, seeing as our Tony is by your side." He says, eyeing Tony with a speculative look. "As it may, I have sent him off with Pepper to explore the citadel. We can't have him wondering around the castle if Tony persists in his little tantrum. He'll expose himself as a boy!"

Tony swallows hard. In the corner of his eye, he sees his mother's fingers twitch on her sides. "I apologize, father. I merely lost track of time. It was not my intention to evade our meeting during the midday meal." He bows his head in apology. "If you shall command it, I will make myself available for tonight's feast."

"Tony..." Howard says as he returns Tony's apologetic look, "My boy, you know it isn't my wish to cause you pain. If there was another way that we could keep you from the sorceress, we would agree to it in a heartbeat. But as it is, we cannot risk you being exposed, not even for Prince Steven. Surely, you must understand this?"

"Yes, father, I do." Tony answers. Silence befalls them until Tony eyes his father's current document and recognizes the seal---the five-point star, the Rogers Family insignia. His stomach sinks to the floor. "Is that," he points, "the draft of our, ehrm, my marriage contract?"

Tony's stomach sinks further. The brutal reality crashes onto him like strong waves of water. Any foolish notion about love, care, and devotion are flushed away. He remembers that this matrimonial union with Prince Steven is nothing but a mere _arrangement_ , a contract, for the benefit of their kingdoms. He feigns aloofness.

"How much am I worth to them then?" He asks, unable to stop his bitterness.

But Howard waves him off. "Nonsense," the King says, "they are yet to make a proposal. We've agreed to a marriage _interview_ and _not_ engagement talks. They have until the next moon to give their offer. This," he continues, "are armour drawings made by Prince himself. He sought my opinion on them to see if they are fit for the duty. They are ours, should we wish to use them, given as a token of his good intention to your future union."

"So he woos you to get to me," Tony jeers, "Isn't that the most classical maneuver in the storybooks? I suppose that he's out there wooing Pepper as well. What of mama, has he won you over as well?"

"Tony!" Maria chastises, evidently appalled, "You will not put into ill-humour such pure intentions. It is unbecoming of you."

"Your mother is right, my son," Howard agrees genuinely, "though it does not mean that I've accepted their intentions for your hand, I must insist you look these over. They are quite well done. Hence, why I called for an audience with you. At least build him a token of gratitude for his efforts. That way, he will not leave our Kingdom empty handed when you refuse him." He gathers the parchment into a roll and offers it.

Tony swallows the lump in his throat and accepts the parchment. "As you wish, my king," he says with a bow before turning to leave.

"Tony," Howard calls out after him "will you grace us with your presence for dinner?"

"No"

***

Tony debates for a moment whether to head straight to his room or to go his workshop. He decides, at the last minute, that he needed to _do something_ to chase away the jitters crawling under his skin. He walks fast, unmindful of the servants. as he climbs the many steps to the tower top. One day, he thinks, he will invent a machine like the pulley system they use for the drawbridge to make the trek easier. He's panting by the time he reaches the door.

His space is in organize chaos. He uses the key around his neck to unlock the deadbolt at the bottom and pushes it open. It's a security measure to protect all this new equipment to keep it, and possible meddlers, away from harm's way. Personally, he believes, that the contents of this chamber presents the biggest potential threat to the kingdom than anything in the outside world. He must keep it hidden away.  

Tools, materials, and plans are scattered in various surfaces, in varying stages of completion. He has over a dozen on-going projects and binders full of ideas tucked away on the shelves. He likes it just as it is. None of the servants are allowed in the tower. It's the most guarded room after the royal treasury.

He strides inside. There's a table near the window which isn't as cluttered as the rest. The contents on it were basically silverware and water skins. He grimaces as he piles them all away to clear the surface. He unrolls the parchment and lays it down. He puts a goblet, a small hammer, a rock, and broken piece of mental on the corners.

It's the first time he's seen the entire thing without his father's looming presence and his mother's concern. "Wow," he breathes out, amazed. It is an impressive sketch---no, diagram, of an imagined armour design. It mimics the style of his own armour but with more angular edges and, clearly, made for men with more bulk. The lines are perfect, straight, and _confident_ like the hands who drew it with such care. It's a beautiful drawing.

This armour, Steve's armour, is made of carved metal and chain mail with the focus primarily on the breast plate. A man who would wear such an armour would be free to wield his weapons in a large range of motion but he would be vulnerable beyond the torso. Tony frowns at the obvious weakness. The rest of the armour is designed to be only enforced chainmail.

"This is drivel," he curses through his teeth, "What use is an armour that will not protect your limbs? What use is a warrior without his legs? What is a knight without his arms? There's too much skin that will be exposed if we were to use this!" He slams his hands on the table in frustration.

The candle holder wobbles. He reaches to steady it. When he does, he sees the view of the grounds behind the carved brass. He immediately spots his sisters walking along the streets. Then, he sees _Steve_ , dressed in his full morning regalia for his _supposedly_ introduction to Princess Nia. He looks a hundred times better than when he was in his simple clothes. Something akin to jealousy spikes inside him.

Suddenly, Tony wishes that he can see it closer. He could have seen it better if he attended the midday meal. Pity, though, if morning clothes looked that good on Steve, Tony wonders what miracles the evening wear will bring. He thumps his head on the table in regret. He seriously needs to tinker with something, else, he might spontaneously combust!

***

The markets in the citadel are bustling with life and energy. It's lined with a mix-match of products from freshly harvested fruits and vegetables to finely made cloths to high-quality leather to iron works to trinkets and jewelries. Steve has never seen such a copious amount of colours all located in one place! Their lands in the north are cold lands of greys, whites, and blues.

"You are blessed generously," he says to his companion with awe, "Our ports back home will pale in comparison to these riches."

"You're too kind, Prince Steven," she replies with a coy expression, "Please, do take pleasure in the markets. I have gone through these streets on many occasion. Pray, do not let me hinder your enjoyment."

Princess Virginia, Pepper as she prefers, is beautiful in her own right but far too young to be of any interest to him. She is a truly remarkable young girl--bright, witty, and a joyous countenance. She will, without a doubt, grow up to be a splendid Princess with time.

Steve walks through the stalls in wonder. He idly wonders what the Crowned Princess would be like. So far, he's met two siblings of the elusive Black Rose: Tony and Pepper. While Princess Pepper possesses all the qualities of a well-bred royal girl, he cannot help but be drawn to Tony's more casual and laid-back manner. He wishes, to a second, that he could meet the man again during the festivities.

In one of the stalls, a simple pendant catches his eye---a small blue gem encased in a triangular glass case.

"How much?" he blurts out, while he held the small trinket up.

The merchant seems to recognize him and his party. "The visiting prince!" she exclaims, "What a pleasure it is to be noticed by you! Come, look at the fine stones that I have to offer you. That," she wrinkles her face at the blue gem, "that is a useless rock of barely any value, my lord. You must take a look at this instead," she says, gesturing to the assortment of fine gems, "these are the highest quality gems that I have."

Steve bites his tongue at the retort. "No, thank you," he rebuffs, "I wish to purchases this one." He lifts his hand and shows her the plain blue rock. "It's of little value but I prefer it to a gem. Gems can be plentiful and abundant but this rock is beautiful despite because it is plainness. Not many people will see value in ordinary things which makes it unique in itself."

The merchant frowns at his choice but says nothing. "Three silver coins, my lord, for the rock, and another coin if you wish to purchase the leather strap."

Steve shakes his head. "Just the pendant will do." He says, pulling out the money and handing it to the man. "Thank you for the business."

Pepper, curious Pepper, cannot help but be interested in the Prince's purchase. _Was he really going to woo the Crowned Princess with a rock_? Lunatic! Many suitors have given Tony more expensive gift of jewels and gold! What kind of man would give his intended a present from their own markets? Surely, this isn't the man that would marry Tony, right? She would much rather have Prince Hammer and his beautiful golden roses!

"For someone special, my lord?" She asks, managing to sound interested but not inquisitive. The smile on the Prince's face is answer enough but she waits on his reply.

"Yes," Steve admits, "It's for a friend." A faint blush colours his cheeks upon realizing _who_ he intended it for. _Tomorrow,_ he thought, _tomorrow he will give it to Tony when they meet_.

"She is a very lucky lady, my lord." Pepper says, hoping to catch him unguarded.

Steve colours lightly again. "No," he stammers, "you misunderstand. This trinket is for a friend. I assure you, I have no sweetheart back at home... or anywhere else for the matter... I would vow my faithfulness to her if she were to accept me as her husband."

"How can you say that?" Pepper wonders, "What if Nia were to be ugly, fat, or deformed? You've never met her and yet you say that you love her!"

"I made no such claims of love." Steve protest, now red with annoyance, "Pray, do not twist my words with your own perceptions. I will marry for love and not merely duty."

"But," Pepper arches one of her brows. She stares at him with blatant regard, as if trying to perceive into his mind, "Aren't you here to marry my sister? Is that not what you came for? To be wed to the Crowned Princess? Our kingdom’s Black Rose to help decorate your household? I am quite positive that you’ve heard about her suitors."

"Yes, erhm, no, uh," Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, "Indeed her beauty is no secret but that is not the only reason for us to wed. For what it's worth, I intended to woo her properly before any talks of marriage were to arise. I came to seek permission to court her. I would never force anyone to marry me. It will leave us both unhappy in the future. But, seeing as she does not even wish to set her eyes upon me, I fear this visit will be a failure."

Pepper is speechless with his declaration. Stunned into silence, she continues her regard of him from beneath her lashes, neither happiness nor apprehension betraying her face. She might be young but their mother has taught her well to be guarded. And yet, she hopes. Perhaps she is in the wrong to assume such evils of him too early? Maybe, just maybe, this man could make Tony happy. That would be the most ideal results for everyone.

"Would you like to see a painting?" she offers with a kind smile.

"A painting?" He raises his head, blue eyes gleaming with renewed interest. Paints were rare and expensive in his country. If he is not royalty, he doubts to have access to such pleasures at all! The idea of seeing local art from this country excites him. He briefly imagines the richness of color that this land offers.

"Yes," Pepper nods while they depart from the market, "A painting of Princess Nia. I'm sure that there are a few lining the castles. If you are willing to walk, I shall endeavor to bring you to the most recent one. Although, I must admit that it might be quite a trek.” Because of course Tony would have been adamant to place his most recent painting on the higher floors.

"Oh!" Steve's eyes grow wide. Not only is he to see their artistic talents but he is to gaze upon the likeness of the illusive Black Rose as well. His heart thunders in his chest in anticipation. He bottles it all in, ducking his head in a blush. "I certainly to do not mind. That would be most pleasing."

"Perfect!" She declares with a clap of her hands. "Come on then, we must dally around here if we wish to be finished by dinner!"

***

The castle is lined with paintings and portraits. Pepper shows them all to Steve, laughing as she shows him some of their own painting disasters that were still on display, and shares tales of their childhood. Steve laughs along in good humor, asking a few non-invasive question here and there, and feels as if he grew up beside them. He marvels at the artists' talent and how he captures Princess Pepper's likeness.

"Oh!" Pepper exclaims in glee when she sees the familiar oval shaped canvass. "Here it is! It's been a while since we sat for a painting. More so, Nia, this is a few years ago. She’s been…" She trails off, not really knowing what to say. Tony’s features while still soft were starting to sharpen. She points to the large life-size painting of the Crowned Princess. “…difficult.”

The Princess in the painting wore a golden dress made of fine silk, a modest square cut bodice with a ruffled neckline line and rose-embroidered pleats, a clinched waist, and elbow-length sleeves with ended is ruffles. Her long wavy black hair was done up in an elegant style with emphasized the softness of her face.

_Beautiful_ , comes the only word in Steve's thoughts. Black Rose, he thinks to himself, her hair dark hair rivaling that of their darkest inks against light olive skin and yet her features appear as delicate as freshly bloomed petals. He now understands her namesake. It's not until his brain reawakens that he notices her uncanny resemblance to Tony.

"So," Pepper stands shyly beside him, "What do you think?"

"She's is beautiful," He says without thinking. Then he catches himself, "I am blessed that she is not as how you described ' ugly, fat, or deformed', was it?"

The comment makes Pepper blush in embarrassment. "Yes, you are indeed blessed to even be considered as a potential suitor. Many other have tried and failed, you know."

"Perhaps," Steve inclines his head to agree, "But this portrait cannot tell he how she is like. I can never wish to be wed to a complete stranger. As magnificent as this painting may be, it can give me no further pleasure than to look upon her royal highness, but the distance between us stays the same. I truly wish that I shall have the opportunity to meet her before I leave."

Pepper looks at him in amazement. "Well then, Prince Steven," she says with utmost dedication, "I shall endeavor to convince Prince Nia to grace us with her presence during dinner."

Steve's eye brightens with delight. "Thank you, my lady, that will be very kind of you."


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, Tony works for most of the day and retires only when the light becomes insufficient. He finishes the day's experiments with materials for his gauntlet. His findings are catalogued in one of large binders specifically for gauntlet-related musings. He stows leaves the materials scattered on his work table but meticulously re-shelves the binder. He locks up before heading to his room.

The stone walls retain the heat from the day's sun. He takes the torch from beside the workshop door. He wants to avoid attention to this part of the castle. He lifts up the light and scans the adjacent wall. He grins when he spots the discolored patch of stone and presses it. The wall gently gives and opens to reveal a thick metal pole. He checks the safety ropes before he swings on, closing the hidden door behind him.

Tony slides down in the darkness with practiced ease. It's a small hatch, not build for people in mind, but he's modified it to fit him. It gives direct access to the antechamber of his room. There are benefits to walking around the castle as the armorer and not as the Princess because he's managed to memorize the servant's passages and some of the hidden ones on his own. It's an easy way down.

Once his feet touch solid ground, he pushes the wooden door. On the outside, it's fake back to a mounted wooden cabinet. He’s literally just come out of the closet. There should be humour there but it's far too early in history to be noticed. He brushes off the dust and dirt then exits the antechamber. He smells himself, catching the stench of his sweat mixed with grease, and wrinkles his nose.

It's time for a bath.

Tony’s personal chamber was the second largest of the royals’ quarters. It’s decorated in rich red cloths, heavy dark brown woods, and stone grey cobbled walls. His large four-poster bed was the focal point of the space. There was also a writing desk, a small dining table, a fireplace, and a large stone-floored area where he had built for a tub. He hated it when his old floors withered away because of rotten wood.

He crosses the space and headed for the door. He had every intention of peaking outside and ordering  a bath to be bought-in by the first servant he sees. He didn’t have a personal servant. Living as both genders made selecting one difficult. It also meant that he needed the antechamber to be converted into a walk-in closet. Two lives required two different sets of clothing.

He pulls the latch and swings the door open, mouth posed to yell when---”Pepper!” he stumbles back as she shoves past him and enters without waiting for permission. The chamber doors slide close. “Wh---what are you doing here?” he asked in confusion.

Pepper takes one good look at him and wrinkles her nose. “Dear god, Tony, you stink worse than the stables. Had you locked yourself up in the workshop _all morning_?” She says in lieu of an answer, disapproval clear in tone. “And you’ve skin!” She exclaims, grabbing his wrist to expose his grease-strained forearm, “How in heaven’s name will this be gone my tonight?”

“Ahh, yes,” he thinks aloud, recalling his initial purpose to opening the door, “I was just about to call for a b---”

“No!” She shrieks, cutting him off at the door. She squeezes her petite frame between her brother and the wood. “No, don’t, Tony, please,” she warned in a low tone, “Prince Steven might still be in the corridor. You might be seen! You’ll be discovered!”

“What?” Tony demands, equally low. He fights the urge to scream his frustrations out on her. “What did you say? What are you doing here? Why is _he_ even in this part of the castle?” His frowns at the thought of them headed to her rooms.

“Hush, brother, I beg,” Pepper soothes, hands coming up to touch his chest carefully. Her face, ever so beautiful, contorts in entreaty. He bites back the retort between his lips. He nods. “I do not wish you any alarm. I merely came in the hopes of imploring you to join us for tonight’s feast. Prince Steven,” she says with a fondness in her voice that makes Tony’s gut twist, “deeply wishes to see you.”

Tony crosses his arms with a frown. “Tell him to take a tour of the castle. He will see enough of me. My portraits are everywhere.” He says dismissively. “Why should I? I see no point.”

“Tony,” Pepper chides in a tone reminiscent of the King, “Prince Steven has come all this way to meet you! Why will you not just meet him? Once should be enough. Then, you can reject his marriage proposal. It’s the proper thing to do.”

‘ _Shall I offer him your hand instead_?’ The traitorous voice inside Tony’s head taunts him.

“Fine,” he replies gruffly, “Meet him once then reject him. Got it.” He says in the jittery way that he gets when his brain is loudly churning gears inside his head.

“Really?” Pepper positively beams at him. “I would hug you right now if you weren’t a hazard to my dress. Oh that’s great news Tony! I’ll tell the cooks to make your favorite things. I’ll tell mama and papa and Prince Steven! They’ll all be glad to hear the news.”

Tony shakes his head. “It’s not a big deal, Pepper. It’s my duty as the crowned princess. Don’t make such a big fuss.”

“Okay,” Pepper grumbles, deflated. He knows he can’t win against her.

“Go tell the cooks that I want pigeon pie.” He instructs her and she brightens once again. “But don’t go announcing my attendance to the whole castle! You know how they get when I dress-up all proper like you. I feel like a court jester.”

“Oh, Tony!” Pepper giggles, “It’s not a fool that they see you as. It’s more like a rare gem.”

“Go!” he waved his hand her in a dismissive gesture, “and don’t forget to call for my bath! I haven’t time to waste with all this grime sticking to my skin.”

Pepper laughs, loud and musically to Tony’s ears, and does as she’s told.

He thinks, if Prince Steve will have her, Pepper is a good match for him.

***

A knock comes as Tony is soaking in the bath.

“Who calls upon me, Jarvis?” he shouts from behind the screen. Droplets of water fall on the stone when he talks with his hands and the water of the tub swishes around him. “Tell them to come that the Princess is in the middle of her bath. She is not to be disturbed.”

“But, sir,” Jarvis’ protests die down. It alerts Tony of _who_ his present company may be. For his manservant, albeit not officially, is faithful only to the royal family. He jerks out of his stupor and splashes waters from the edges of the tub.

“I see you still insist on bathing like a child,” Maria teases him, peaking behind the screen. “More of your bathwater is cooling on the floor rather than your basin.”

“Mama!” Tony squeaks, diving under the safety of his bubbles. Waters overflows the brass tub and floods the floor, proving the queen’s point. She laughs and drags her skirts up to avoid getting sodden. “I may parade as a Princess but I’m still a man!”

“Boy,” she pointedly reminds him.

He huffs, “Almost a man. I am fourteen!”

“Fourteen is not yet a man but merely a lad,” She states lightly, “You have not even grown your first whisker!” She giggles again. She respects his privacy enough to move behind the screen, giving him a small sense of triumph and sought after privacy.  

Tony is red-faced under the water but it isn’t because of the water’s heat. He wants to dispute her and say that he is a man for he is not naïve of a man’s baser urges, urges that tempt their knights to the comforts of the tavern’s second story, urges that his own father had once fed. However, to do so would give him away.

“Jarvis!” he bellows, calling forth the manservant, “Bring me a towel and a robe so I may properly address the queen.” Ever efficient, Jarvis appears not a moment later with the cloths in hand.

“Sir,” he bows, handing the cloths to Tony. He helps the prince out of the tub and pats the pale olive skin with the dry cloth. “Your robe, sir,” he says, motioning for Tony to lift his arms into the armholes of the sleeves. Once Tony is fully covered, he retreats. “Shall I ask the servants to remove the tub, sir?”

Tony thinks for a moment. He eyes the candle stick on his desk. The flame is nearly to the line drawn on the wax. “Yes,” he replies, “send for Vicky to come to the antechamber. I shall speak with my mother there. Make up the room while I dress.”

“Very well, sir.” Jarvis bows once more before leaving.

“A wise choice,” Maria notes as they walk out of the main room. “We shan’t be late.”

Tony shrugs his shoulders and goes to pick a dress. “Mother,” he addresses in a way he rarely does, formally. “May I inquire the nature of this visit? Surely,” he jests, “it’s not to merely chat. We spoke just this afternoon. I’ve been quite clear about my position in this proposal.”

“Can a mother not worry about her son?” Maria wonders aloud. She perches on the ottoman in the center of the room.  She chooses the one without a backrest so as not to disfigure her skirts.

The antechamber of Tony’s room is unlike any other. Instead of a servant’s bed in the corner, there are large wardrobes against the wall, a five-piece full-length mirror in the corner, a female vanity area littered with make-up and ribbons, a chest full of jewels, and an unused cabinet for his suitor’s gifts. There’s a couch and a few ottomans for cases such as this.

“Perhaps you meant eldest daughter,” Tony corrects her without spite; “No man would be caught in such fine dress except for me.” This is all he’s ever known---living two separate lines. He hardly can take offense by it. He reaches into one of the trunks and pulls out a cotton chemise. He unceremoniously tugs it over his head.

A knock cuts Maria’s reply.

“Ahh, it’s arrived!” She squeals in delight. “Come,” she orders the servants behind the door, “Bring it in. Quickly! I wish to see my daughter wearing it!”

The statement makes Tony whips around in confusion. “It?” he voices out, “What do you mean---“ he abruptly stops as he sees two maids carry in a lavishly sewn dress that isn’t one of his own---yet. It’s the first time he’s seen it. “You had the seamstress make a dress?” he says for the lack of anything else.

“Of course, my dear,” Maria coos, standing so she may inspect it for herself. “You may hand it there,” she instructs, pointing to an empty dress rack. The maids obediently follow. They deconstruct the dress into its many parts, laying them out on the various hangs and flat surfaces, filling a quarter of the room with pieces of cloth.

Tony’s eyes are wide. “Why go through such troubles?” he asks in doubt, “There’s no need for him to _like_ me.” _His affections are already directed elsewhere_. “There’s no need for this.” He eyes the dark-blue dress with distain. The color perfectly complements Steve’s eyes, his traitorous brain supplies.

“Oh, hush,” Maria tells Tony, “I am the Queen and your mother. I shall so as I see fit, Nia. You are about to meet a potential spouse and you will be dressed accordingly. “

“But, mama,” Tony complains, not minding the change in address, “I’ve entertained suitors before tonight. Why should this one be special?”

“Because,” explains Maria, “He so happens to be the son of one of our dearest friends.”

“Ahh,” says Tony, as if it makes any difference. He is wheedled into a corset which was laced tightly around his waist to accentuate his slender waist. A bell-shaped farthingale is fitted over his hips with the five hoops are gathered and dropped while he poises his arms over his head. The pale blue petticoat comes next. It’s made of layers upon layers of frilly lace. It fits snugly on top of the farthingale. A bodice

Then, he feels like _he_ is sewn into the bodice, which composes the rest of the dark blue silk dress. The stomacher is jewel -encrusted with small white gems sewn into the embroidery and lace, lots and lot of lace to cover his flat chest. More gartered lace is tucked just above his elbows to create rustles sleeves. White socks cover Tony’s shapely legs, held by garters above on his highs. A supportasse  is placed underneath his frilly white lace collar.

“You look so handsome, my dear,” Maria woos in excitement, “You will have the Prince’s heart by tonight’s end! I assure you!”

“Mama,” Tony tries to tell her different, to point out that Steve might already be spoken for, to inform the Queen of the second Princess’ affections for the visiting prince, but she silences him with a look. He bows his head instead, “Thank you for your kind gift. ‘Tis a beautiful gown.”

Overall, Tony feels extremely overdressed for dinner. He wears the Rogers’ colors with a heavy heart. He wishes to wear his burgundy gowns instead, the dark nearly brown color which subdues his features, because he _doesn’t_ want the prince to fancy him.

 _He doesn’t_.

***

The evening’s meal is grander than the morning; it’s a feast! The long tables at court are overflowing with fruit, cold cuts of meat, and cheese. Servants are constantly coming in with more pitchers of wine. Court musicians fill the hall with lively melodies. Some have taken to dancing while waiting for dinner to be served.

Steve exchanges pleasantries with a handful of nobles.

He wishes to meet his future bride in less pretentious circumstances.

“Prince Steven,” King Howards greets him with an amiable smile, “I see that you are well.”

Steve curtsies in respect. “Your Royal Highness,” he replies with a smile of his own, “Yes, indeed I am. Your majesty has been very gracious and so have your people. I have naught but fond memories since this morning’s meal.”

“I’m pleased to note the rumors are true!” the King says, laughing and patting him on the shoulder. “All the good things Joseph has said about you clearly are no exaggerations. You truly are very much like your mother, Sarah.” It’s a testament in itself to the closeness of their kingdoms.

Steve blushes at the compliment. “I am flattered, your majesty,” he replies with gratitude, “I am humbled by your words. I am an ordinary man in the cloak of royalty.”

“You are modest for your station,” Howards notes, silently approving of such a trait, “It’s a quality not many nobles possess.”

“It’s a great honor and duty to protect my kingdom’s people. I assure you, your grace, I act merely in accordance to my position.” Steve responds politely. He makes a point of lowering his head to the King, a way to hide his blush and avoid further compliments. He is not akin to receiving praises.

“Prince Steve!” a female voice calls out from the crowd. Pepper is making their way towards them in a burnt orange silk dress and a high-puffed collar. She bows to her father then turns to Steve. She eagerly presents her hand to him.

Steve accepts her hand and kisses the back of it. “Princess Pepper, what a wonderful dress for this evening.”

“Thank you,” Pepper receives the compliment well, “You too look quite handsome in your Captain’s uniform, Prince Steven. You make quite a sight. I saw you the moment I stepped into the hall!”

Once more Steve blushes. It is only now that he pays attention to his clothes. He is ill-prepared for constant evening merriments which caused him to wear his captain’s tunic and a few piece of his armor. He wears satin doublet, wired whisk, short cape, and hose over cannions. Narrow points are tied in bows at his waist. All of which were in his royal house’s colors.

A bell chimes and the servers announce that dinner is to be served.

He is seated at the front table, facing the open dance floor, with perfect view of the double doors. He sits beside the King. Pepper and the Queen are seated on the King’s other side with an empty chair between them. His intended bride is still nowhere to be seen. His stomach drops, another night will go to waste without ever meeting the elusive Black Rose of the Stark House. He tries not to let his disappointment show.

“My dear boy,” the King says in a low voice. Steve prepares himself to the eminent news of Princess Nia’s absence just like this morning. “I’m afraid that the princess is running a bit late. I apologize for her tardiness.”

Just then, on cue, the crowds collectively gasp. Steve’s eyes immediately dart to the entry way. There she was under the glimmer of candle light, against the picturesque background of the festive hall, surrounded by all the court who paled in comparison to her, dressed in his Kingdom’s shade of blue—a blatant offer previously unheard of.

In moment of prolonged eternity, Steve’s eyes are only for her. To say she is beautiful would be an insult. Not ever all the words of all the scholars, or poets, or scribes would be enough do describe her. He stares at the girl whom his father wished for him to marry, thinking that for once his old man was not mistaken.

The hall hushes as she confidently makes her way to the front. They buzz about her, talk about her, gossip about her. Clearly, her presence _demands_ notice. It is as if she fills a previously unknown void in the room.

Steve gapes at only at her, the companion forgotten. She has grown more beautiful since her last portrait. She is taller, slenderer, with the angle of her hips more pronounced. She possesses all the grace and elegance of the Queen Maria, the countenance he saw in Pepper, and the poise of the King.

“My sincerest apologies, your royal highness, my dear king and beloved father,” When the princess speaks, her voice is mellow yet commanding, gentle but firm. She glances up through her long dark lashes as she lowers her head, deep aborigine eyes staring at Steve.

Steve cannot stop himself from staring back her at her lips while she spoke. Up close, her beauty is much more striking. Her handsome features outshine her dress. It’s shown in her lack of any jewelry save for the family ring on her finger. Her hair is flowing in loose braids over one shoulder. It gently sways as she bows her head before the King.

The King waves his hand dismissively. “How courteous of you to join us, Nia. I am delighted to see that your health is much improved. Court has been lonely without you. I trust that you are at full strength?”

“Aye, my lord, I’ve rested this afternoon.”

“Ah, wonderful news!” Howard claps his hand in triumph, “Then we shall look forward to a performance from you tonight.” He declares with another merry clap. She looks up at him in disbelief, mouth opening to protest, but he continues, “Captain Rhodes, kindly see the princess to her seat,” he instructs her escort, silencing any of her protests.

It is only then that Steve notices her companion once more. He watches their interaction with more than mild curiosity. The princess makes her way practically unaided. She holds his hand more for show than any support at all, bearing her weight on her own with a remarkable balance, and her companion becomes nothing more than a prop.

***

The meal passes with little excitement.

Not less than fifty servants bring out the food to the tables. It is a plentiful selection of pork, venison, beef, and lamb, chicken and pigeon, and hare---roasted, baked, or otherwise prepared. There is bread, lots of bread in an assortment of styles, potatoes, vegetables with lots of greens, and beans. A large fish is brought it and presented to the front table like a prized delicacy.

“Princess Nia, I believe promised us a performance.” King Howard, stands as he announces in a loud booming voice. “Won’t you dance for our honored guest this evening?”

Steve shuffles in his seat at the attention. “Thank you, your majesty.”

“Of course,” the Princess says in a tone that’s less pleased, “it will be my pleasure.”

Princess Nia takes to the floor. Calm and elegant is her gait. Once she reached the center, she bows low for the King and their guest. Music starts again and she begins to twirl. Her skirts lifted from the floors and, Steve blushes when, the delicate curves of her heels were exposed. She moves like her clothes are feather-light and weightless on her frame, spinning energetically with her hangs to spread wide.

Then, she extends one hand to the side, calling forth a dance partner.

It’s the man from before, Captain Rhodes, Steve realizes.

Together they skin, and hop, and Rhodes helps the Princess with her leaps. Her skirls wisp around her as she dances. She laughs, taking her own enjoyment from the act, careless and free. She is all smiles as she jump-skips around him, hand holding her skirts, her head thrown back. Hand-in-hand, they skip and hop in a wide circle for the crowd.

As the music changes, so does she, following as if she was born for it. She transforms into a rose, through her dance, her movements slow and meek. Like a rosebud leisurely growing, she holds her limbs close to her frame as she sways. It emphasizes her features and her beauty. When she blooms, her skirt blooms with her, fanning out once more.

She is the most enchanting girl he’s ever laid eyes upon.

Yet, all Steve can think of is how she looks so much like _Tony_.

***

For once, Tony is thankful for the decorum which tradition dictates. Awareness of Steve’s gaze lingers on his skin. It prickles at his flesh and the lighter furs on under his dress rise. He returns to his seat, a little out of breath, clinging embarrassingly on Rhodey’s arm for support. Fortunately for him, Rhodey is polite enough not to speak.

“Magnificent, Nia!” Pepper praises him immediately when he sits. Her bright eyes shining with reverence for her older sister.  “Prince Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off you!”

Tony hides his wince. A blush colors his cheeks. It is true. If he closes his eyes, he will see blue. The same blue he saw, never wavering, through the entirety of his performance with the intensity of a thousand suns. Thankfully, he managed without noticeable error. It’s the same hue which covers his flesh. He realizes, belatedly, that he’s dressed in the other Prince’s colors.

“Aww, mama,” he groans to himself, “You played me like a fool. Our kingdom has never made a more blatant offer.”

“No sense, child,” Queen Maria whispers from beside him, “You simply weren’t paying attention. You would have known have you not been absent from breakfast.” She chides and teases in one breath. “I have half the mind to request a dance from you and Prince Steve.”

“You have half the mind to not!” Tony huffs out, blushing. “I have entertained enough tonight. I’ve made up for lapse this morning.”

Maria makes a thinking hum. “Shame,” she notes, “it would have been a marvelous sight for court. You two would look lovely on the dancefloor.”

Desserts are served immediately after his performance. Tony feels waves of anticipation as he sees pie being brought in. He fervently scans the room for Maggie or Darcy. He spots the latter delivering a small pie to Jarvis then, with a big grin, point to Steve’s direction. It’s the apples, Tony thinks, it must be!

Beside him, his mother murmurs in a low voice “I think that offer is more blatant than my choice of color.” She smiles, eyes watching the dish of apple pie being served to Prince Steve.

“Sir,” says Jarvis, drowning out the rest of the banquet hall’s noise to Tony’s ears. “The cooks have prepared a special treat.” He recants and Tony had to grip his spoon tightly to keep himself in check.

“Oh!” Steve squeaks in his seat. Tony can picture the redness of his cheeks once more. “T—thank you. Please send the kitchen my gratitude.”

“If I may speak freely, sir?” Jarvis requests and, damn him, Tony’s about to jump out of his skin. Tony can’t hear what Steve says but it must be an affirmative because Jarvis speaks again. “According to the kitchens, they were picked especially for you, just this afternoon.”

Steve blushes a dark shade of pink and appears genuinely speechless.

“Sir,” Jarvis bows and steps away.

“No, wait.” Tony hears Steve stutter, voice uneven. “M—may I know who picked the apples? Would you know?”

“I’m deeply sorry, sir.” Jarvis responds, “The answer is beyond my knowledge.”

“Oh, I see.” Steve sounds rejected. “Then… please send them my sincerest thanks and tell them… to extend it to the person who brought the apples.”

“As you wish, sir.” Says Jarvis, then he walks away.

Tony feels his cheeks burning. He abruptly stands, feeling too hot, too bothered, and to affected by Steve’s kind words. He worries at the thought that Steve knows it was from him---from Tony. He feels a series of butterflies inside his stomach.

“Nia?” Maria’s voice cuts through her reverie, “Child, are you alright? You’re deathly pale.”

“N—no, mama” he barely wheezes out, “I am feeling a bit winded by all the dancing. The hot flames are of little help. May I—” she glances at her father and pointedly avoids Steve’s worried face, “—seek permission to retire early for the night, my dearest King?”

Howard’s eyes are soft and understanding when he nods. “Very well, child. You may take your leave.”

Tony wastes no time. He bows once to appease court decorum and flees the hall with traitorous thoughts of Steve following him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ thank you for reading! I hoped you liked it! If you did, please so leave your comments or kudos, I welcome all the love that you guys are willing to give me~ 
> 
> As always, **kudos/comments/bookmarks** are all appreciated by this author. I take comments as extra-kudos and I _do_ read the bookmark tags (some are really fun). 
> 
> If you have a prompt or an idea, you can [INSPIRE ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/submit) on tumblr. Or [TALK TO ME](http://arh581958.tumblr.com/ask).


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